Thursday, July 28, 2005


I had pigs, dead, killed, in clothing, arise from a bog to lay in a heap in my living room watching me with ghostpig eyes. They began wafting away and I thanked them for coming, closing the door behind them. CLARK WILL BE HOME SOON, SO BYEBYE NOW. They hadn't known I was alone and thought they would come back in with a new sinister-er look but I shut the door firmly. This I dream in black and white.

Then my brother and I were escaping from an evil kingdom by way of mist in hilly fields and fairy encampments on watery shores. This I dream in color.

But these were the pigs from my brothers wedding and the dreams were merely a coincidence.

The dreampigs were very creepy and didnt look anything like they were spit-roasted.

a pig in the hand


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